By Amber Peckham
Dining out alone is, for me, one of the most socially awkward experiences imaginable. Now, I don’t mean dining out at a fast food joint or anything like that; I’m talking about dining out for real, with tables and menus and cloth napkins. I usually try to avoid dining out alone at all costs. I will go hungry for hours until I have someone to eat with, because in my mind, a meal is an experience you are supposed to share; and if I’m alone while I eat, it’s usually all I can think about.
(I would like to interject here that I don’t have any problem being by myself. In fact, I usually prefer it. That whole “afraid of their own thoughts, has to surround themselves with people” thing does not and never has applied to me. I just hate eating alone. I grew up in a family who ate together.)
On one particular day, though, waiting for company wasn’t an option. I was alone in Japan Town on a crazy quest for dishes, and I needed to refuel. My stomach had been set on udon noodles for about an hour, but before I could get them, I actually had to locate a restaurant, go in, sit down, and order. Alone.